Their breaths intertwined, rapid, scorching, and hot.
He kissed with such force that Song Xinya felt her tongue go numb and ache.
It was still summer, and the two stood kissing in the sunlight of the corridor.
Soon, Song Xinya was drenched in pink sweat.
Tiny beads of sweat slid down her forehead, tracing paths along her cheeks like ants crawling, stirring a faint, lingering tickle on her skin.
The back of her dress was soaked through with sweat, clinging wetly to her body.
But Song Xinya had no thought of asking Qin Yuhe to stop.
Their lips touched, soft and numbing, sweet and sticky.
It felt like the world was spinning, like floating on clouds—Song Xinya’s heart and body trembled with rapture.
It was too wonderful.
The feeling of kissing him was too wonderful.
She wanted him to keep kissing her.
He kissed with abandon, fierce and carrying a ruthless edge.
She stood on tiptoe, lifting her slender neck, accepting all his motions—whether gentle or brutal—with joy.
But with Qin Yuhe’s brutal style of kissing, within less than a minute, Song Xinya was weakly begging for mercy.
Qin Yuhe opened his eyes to look at her. Her little face was flushed red, nearly suffocating to the point of passing out. Was she really willing to faint without ever telling him to stop?
He released her lips.
Song Xinya was covered in hot sweat, dazed and euphoric. She rested her head on his chest, turned to the side, gasping for air.
Qin Yuhe remained as steady as ever, composed, his gaze drifting over her shoulder toward the end of the corridor.
The white figure had vanished.
He curved one corner of his lips and asked, “Which office does your Brother Jingyi work in?”
Song Xinya asked in surprise, “Why do you want to know that?”
Qin Yuhe said, “I want to hold you and walk into his office to savor the look on his face right now.”
Song Xinya was confused.
“What’s so interesting about Brother Jingyi’s expression right now?”
Qin Yuhe said, “You wouldn’t understand. It must be absolutely priceless.”
Song Xinya still didn’t get it.
Qin Yuhe patted her back and urged, “Ask him where his office is.”
Song Xinya picked up her phone and sent a message to Han Jingyi, saying she wanted to bring her husband to see him.
Soon, Han Jingyi replied: “No need, I’ve already left the sanatorium.”
Song Xinya said in surprise, “He’s already left.”
Qin Yuhe said, “What a pity, I didn’t get to see him.”
He slowly ran his tongue over his back teeth. The elite circle in the capital was small enough. Since Han Jingyi planned to stay in the country for a while, they’d meet eventually.
Once Song Xinya’s breathing steadied, Qin Yuhe put his arm around her and walked to a vending machine. He bought a bottle of sea salt lemon soda.
His tall frame bent down. He grabbed the bottle from the dispenser, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her.
Song Xinya looked at his abdomen nervously. “Did you strain your wound when you bent over just now?”
Qin Yuhe said, “I’m not a piece of seaweed that breaks at a touch. I’m not that fragile.”
Song Xinya raised the bottle and drank half of it in one go, finally feeling less thirsty.
Qin Yuhe reached out and wiped a drop of water from the corner of her lips. “You sweating this much just from a kiss—you’re something else.”
Song Xinya said, “Didn’t you sweat just now?”
Qin Yuhe said, “A little.”
Song Xinya handed him the bottle. “Have a drink too, replenish yourself.”
Qin Yuhe said, “No need. I already had plenty of your saliva just now—I’m fully replenished.”
The heat that had just faded from Song Xinya’s cheeks flared up again.
She glanced around. “Stop talking, stop talking. The things you say are unlistenable.”
Qin Yuhe said, “You’ve swallowed my saliva, but now you can’t listen to my words?”
See, the things Crown Prince Qin said were indeed unlistenable.
Song Xinya clutched the sea salt lemon soda and ran off with her head down.
In the hospital room, Song Tingyou was still recounting her experiences over the years to Grandma, trying through one story after another to convince Grandma that she was the lost Youyou.
She talked until her mouth was dry, and Grandma listened until she was drowsy.
It was hardly effective.
When Qin Yuhe walked in, Grandma looked like she’d seen a savior. She quickly went over to him and complained, “Little He, this girl is like a little cicada, chattering nonstop.”
Song Tingyou was mortified.
“I’m not chattering on purpose. I just want Grandma to believe that I really am her Youyou.”
Qin Yuhe said, “Relying on you just rambling on here like a monk chanting sutras, just running your mouth?”
Song Tingyou was even more embarrassed. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her skirt, nearly poking a hole through it.
“Is there a better way?”
Qin Yuhe said, “Do you have photos of yourself from these years on your phone?”
Song Tingyou said, “Yes.”
“Then why are you hiding them? Saving them for antiques?” Qin Yuhe guided her. “Show them to Grandma.”
Song Tingyou quickly pulled out her phone and showed Grandma the photos she’d taken over the years, one by one.
Age three, age four, age five, age six…
Age fourteen, age fifteen, age sixteen, age seventeen…
Relying purely on imagination, it was hard to picture someone’s entire growth journey.
Especially since Grandma had mental issues.
But through each photo—those frozen moments, those sealed memories—they truly captured a person’s growth trajectory. When these photos were shown to Grandma, the fourteen lost years were filled in year by year, and the feeling was immediately different.
Talking with words alone was too dry and lacking in persuasion.
Photos had people, colors, changes—they were full of persuasive power.
As Grandma looked at these photos, a sparkle lit up her eyes.
She studied them, her aged fingers slowly tracing the little girl in the photos from age three to age seventeen—from a delicate little doll to a graceful young woman. As she looked, her eyes grew misty with moisture.
With wet eyes, she looked at the photos, then up at Song Tingyou. Her voice trembling, she said, “You really… might be my Youyou.”
Everyone in the room showed delighted expressions.
Song Tingyou threw herself into Grandma’s arms, her voice choked with sobs. “Grandma, Grandma, Grandma, I am Youyou. I’m back. I’ve come back safe and sound. Grandma, don’t blame yourself anymore. Please wake up soon.”
………
This chapter is an extra update.
Today, I released three extra chapters, over 6,000 words.
Kneeling for a wave of five-star reviews!
Right now, there are 11,000 book reviews. My dear readers, help push it to 12,000 five-star reviews, and I’ll release more chapters!
Only 1,000 more five-star reviews needed!
Only 1,000 more five-star reviews needed!
Once we reach it, I’ll release more chapters—over 6,000 words!
Thank you to every reader who gives a five-star review. Love you all～
